I'm coming home
by CanadianDuo
Summary: Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock is living with Mycroft in his mansion house outside of London to hide away from the world while the assassins are still lurking about. One day, Sherlock can't stand it anymore and Mycroft suggests a plan that's very risky yet a genius plan to get close to John without him knowing. REVIEWS ARE WELCOME! Enjoy! :) Rated M because smut may come.
1. The Plan

The sound of glass shattering coming from the other room made Mycroft Holmes look up from the papers on his desk for the first time in the last five hours. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking in a deep, calming breath and reminding himself for the hundredth time that this was his brother and that he loved him.

The silence was deafening for a few long moments. Mycroft didn't dare move from where he was sitting, nor was there any sounds coming from outside the door. He hoped that this was it. That Sherlock had finally calmed down for the day. Boy was he wrong. Before the older Holmes brother could react, the doors to his private quarters burst open revealing a very pissed off younger brother, holding a very expensive antique vase in his hands.

Mycroft pushed his chair back as he stood up, narrowing his eyes at his brother dangerously, daring him to drop the vase. He took a moment to analyze Sherlock's condition. He was paler than usual and had dark circles under his eyes due to the insomnia he had been experiencing ever since the fall but that's a story for another least he was eating, thank god for that. Mycroft still couldn't believe he managed to get Sherlock to eat every other day. It had been incredibly easy to manipulate his younger brother with just a few words.

* * *

"Do you think John would approve of you starving yourself?" He asked on the first week after several failed attempts to get Sherlock to eat anything at all.

There was no response from Sherlock, of course, but at the mention of John's name he could see the flicker of awareness come back into Sherlock's eyes.

"He would never forgive you if you got sick because you refused sustenance. You know how much he cares about your health." Mycroft tried again the second week. John was definitely the key to getting Sherlock to eat. He just had to guess which buttons to push to get the desired result. He was ready to get up and leave when Sherlock leaned forward and sniffed at the food suspiciously. He looked up, narrowing his eyes at his older brother and stubbornly pushed the plate of food away then turned his back at Mycroft with a small huff. Both brothers knew that at this point, Sherlock was simply refusing to eat because of his pride, not because he wasn't hungry. Mycroft didn't care, however, as long as Sherlock ate, he didn't care about the reason behind it.

The third week finally showed some improvements. "You know John would – " Mycroft started but was quickly interrupted by Sherlock.

"Okay, enough!" The younger brother hissed, glaring at the older Holmes. "I get it, alright? John would want me to eat. I need to eat to stay strong so that when it's time, I can go back to John. I get it! Just…stop talking about him. You're not helping. Give me the bloody food and I'll eat it if it'll shut you up."

Mycroft pushed the plate across the table, watching Sherlock's every move. He had no intention of leaving the table until he saw Sherlock pick up the food and swallow it.

"Don't eat too fast or you'll get sick." Mycroft said and of course, before the last syllable was uttered, Sherlock started eating his food like a madman causing Mycroft to look away in order to keep his own lunch down.

Now that the eating problem was out of the way, Mycroft stupidly assumed that Sherlock would behave like a normal human being. Of course, he knew how easily bored Sherlock could get, therefore he planned on doing everything in his power to give Sherlock whatever he wanted to keep himself entertained. He was after all, the British government. He could do anything. As long as it was reasonable, of course.

What he didn't expect was for Sherlock to walk into his office, completely naked without one ounce of self-awareness and to stop right in front of the very large flat screen TV in the room. Mycroft watched Sherlock – himself, too shocked to move at the time – tilt his head to the side in confusion before he turned around, giving Mycroft's business partners a front row view of his testicles.

Cries and grunts came from the men from the other side of the video feed as they looked away and the only woman at the table actually fainted from the shock, her head falling down against the table with a thump.

During the whole ordeal, Sherlock simply blinked a couple of times unashamed that strangers had seen him naked up close and personal. Way more personal than any of them would have liked; before turning away and walking towards the door to exit. "I need to speak to you." Sherlock called out before slamming the door behind him, leaving a red faced, embarrassed Mycroft to clean up his mess.

Mycroft had never managed to make Sherlock wear clothes around the house. He had to lock the door to his office whenever he had an important meeting and he also put two highly trained guards outside of the door, just for good measure. Apparently John had no problem when Sherlock paraded around the house naked. Mycroft immediately regretted not putting hidden cameras in the apartment. The strange things going on in there would make amazing blackmail material, he was sure.

* * *

So here they are, six months later, Sherlock had just burst through the doors and for the first time since their first week there, Sherlock had clothes on.

"Six months to put on a pair of trousers and a t-shirt. I must say Sherlock, I am not impressed." Mycroft walked around his desk then leaned against it, watching his brother closely.

"I hate it here! I want to go out."

"You know you can't." Mycroft let out an exasperated sigh. This conversation again.

"Six months I've been a prisoner in this damn house. I can't take it anymore. You must understand." Sherlock pleaded, waving the vase around all over, making Mycroft's heart skip a beat a couple of times because of his loose grip on the highly valuable vase.

Of course Mycroft knew all too well what Sherlock meant. He was starting to get restless himself. Not being able to leave the house only when it was strictly necessary was slowly driving him insane. What had he been thinking, promising Sherlock that he would keep him company in whichever safe house he ended up in. Feelings of guilt over what Sherlock had to do to ensure his friend's safety was, of course, what led Mycroft to even agree to such a crazy thing. Living in a confined space with his brother for a long period of time was supposed to be his punishment and it just sucked. Not that he'd ever complain in front of Sherlock. He'd rather drink paint.

"I can't let you leave just yet, Sherlock." He sighed and retrieved two files from his desk and handed them over to Sherlock.

"What are these?"

"Two assassins out of the three who were hired to kill your friends are dead. Sjek Elison and Ione Fausto have been decapitated two days ago. Elison was in Russia on another job and Fausto was in Egypt, on a vacation with the money he got from Moriarty. They're both dead. I've got the video of their decapitation."

Mycroft picked up a third file from his desk, a frown suddenly making an appearance on his face. "This is the assassin who was in charge of killing John. David Rossi." He threw the file at Sherlock and sighed. "Last seen in the Vatican City. My men tried to kill him several times but…"

Mycroft's voice trailed off and he shrugged. "We'll get him. But now you can see why you can't go back yet, Sherlock. If Rossi finds out you're still alive, he'll go directly for John. He won't even waste his time on you."

Sherlock opened Rossi's file and read it over, memorizing every word in the file. If something happened to John or even Greg and Mrs. Hudson he was going to find this man himself and take out his heart with his bare hands and no one would be able to stop him.

"Of course not. At the end, I wasn't their target. I was Moriarty's."

Mycroft looked up at Sherlock. This was the first time Sherlock willingly brought the consultant criminal up in a conversation.

"Want to tell me what happened on that rooftop?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and closed the file, handing it back to Mycroft then leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. "Nothing happened."

"You really think he's dead?"

"The man blew his brains out right in front of my face. There was one inch separating us. I very seriously doubt that he could have faked that, Mycroft." Sherlock scoffed before he sighed and closed his eyes.

There was a moment of silence when neither man spoke. Mycroft took this time to study Sherlock. He looked…defeated and he hated seeing his younger brother like this. Despite all their arguments and bickering, he loved his brother dearly, which is why he planned on giving him an alternative plan.

"There is another way to be with John while the threat is being removed." Mycroft spoke softly and couldn't help but show a smile when Sherlock's entire face seemed to lighten up.

"You could become his friend under the pretense of being someone else."

"From what you've told me, he doesn't go out. He goes to work and goes directly back to the flat. He hasn't been out on a date ever since. He hasn't been to the pub in months either. It's a stupid plan, which makes no sense." Sherlock scoffed and turned to look out the window. It had been raining for a week now on and off and when it stopped raining, a thick fog surrounded the house, making it impossible to do anything outside. Sherlock loved riding horses. It gave him the ability to unwind and forget his worries, even if only for a short period of time. But for a week now there's been nothing but rain and fog. It was a clear sign that it was time to leave this place, to move on, and do something. He couldn't just sit in his new room and do his experiments which weren't as much fun without John yelling at him to be careful and not blow up the whole block.

"I could…persuade him to start renting out your room."

That got Sherlock's attention for a few seconds before the detective shook his head. "He'd never agree."

"He will. He can be easily manipulated. Especially in the state that he's in right now."

"He'll recognize me." Sherlock replied, having already filled in the missing parts in Mycroft's plan.

"There is always that risk, yes." A small smile danced across Mycroft's lips. "However, I can have my make-up artists and hairdressers work their magic on you."

"You have make-up artists and hairdressers at your disposal?" The young detective could barely contain his laughter.

"I do attend parties, you know." The elder Holmes replied indignantly.

"Yeah but make-up and hairdressers? You're a grown man for God's sake, Mycroft. Do your friends know you wear make-up?"

Did his brother even have friends? Certainly not. What person in his right mind would even want to be friends with his brother? He let out a small laugh and shook his head. "And what do you need a hairdresser for? You're balding! In a few months, maybe a year, you'll be able to eat off your head and you're wasting your money on hairdressers!"

Mycroft glared at Sherlock and it took every ounce of self-control not to lash out at his brother and give him exactly the reaction he wanted and expected. Instead, he forced a smile and walked back around the desk and sat down.

"You ridicule now but you'll thank me later, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked away with a sigh. "I'm uncertain this will work."

"It will. Give me a few days and you'll find yourself with a completely different identity. No one from your 'old' life will be able to recognize you. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course not." A small, fake and sweet smile appeared on Sherlock's features causing his brother to scowl. "However, I am sure that you will do your best to have this plan succeed. You do owe me, after all. Or have you forgotten already?"

* * *

**Well, there goes our first chapter of our first fic written together, I hope you guys liked it! Reviews are welcome!**

**We're working on the second chapter as we speak. Thanks for reading! Keep checking for more:)**


	2. New Identity- Part 1

**Just so you guys know. All thoughts from the characters are in ****_italics_****!**

* * *

"...You do owe me after all. Or have you forgotten already?"

"No brother dear. I haven't forgotten. You being here, causing me constant annoyance is such a persistent reminder."  
The plumper man took a deep breath and raised a brow at the silence that greeted him, but the eye roll from the lanky man was easy to spot. "Go do your experiments or whatever it is that you do. I'll call my hairdresser and makeup artists to inform them of such. Tomorrow, the hairdressers shall be here. The day after tomorrow we'll have tailors to come in and take your measurements, you must wear different clothing compared to before. On the second last day, I'll have my makeup artists come in and teach you ways to do makeup on your own in order for everyone to be unable to recognize you when you're living with John. When this is all done, I'll give you your new identity. I shall make a list of the plan for you later when it is finalized."

Sherlock stared at the older of the two as he sighed, rubbing his face at this thought. "Alright then, hand me the memo or whatever tomorrow morning, I'll be going for a horse ride. I don't care if it's raining Mycroft. Leave it." He muttered as he turned and left the large room before Mycroft was able to put a word in.

Sherlock sighed as he put the seat on his horse, Annabella. She was white with little black spots all over, Sherlock smiled as he took care of her before he mounted the horse. With that, Annabella and Sherlock rode off into the fog and the drizzling rain.

**_Sunday morning... (Holmes's Estate)_**

The next day before Sherlock even could crack an eyelid open, he saw the paper with the list on it having been slid from underneath the gap of the door. Slowly, the tall detective got up, bare-ass naked as he sauntered half-awake over to the paper to pick it up and he soon read over the paper of which it was very organized and well planned out. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the way Mycroft's usual sloppy writing was sprawled across the paper but his Sherlock's own name in a stupidly precious handwriting which was so obviously underlined. Written on the paper exactly was this:

**Itinerary for ****_Sherlock Holmes_****.**

**11AM SUNDAY- Hairdresser (Julio Pez) arrives and begins his work on your hair**

**NOON MONDAY- Tailor (Fernando Martinez) arrives for your measurements**

**ALL DAY TUESDAY- Fernando to take you out to shops**

**3PM WEDNESDAY- Make-up Artist (Janelle Harming) arrive and begins work**

**10AM THURSDAY- Julio returns for more work**

**WHENEVER FRIDAY- Retrieve information about new identity**

**1PM SATURDAY- Janelle returns to teach you about makeup**

**WHENEVER SUNDAY- **REVIEW AND MEMORIZE NEW IDENTITY****

**MONDAY NOON- Arrive at Baker Street. IF PREPARED!**

**End of itinerary.**

**Signed: ****_M.H._**

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the signature Mycroft placed. It was ridiculous how he starred out to memorize his new identity. Oh god, he had questions..

_What if I dislike my new identity? What if I can't change it if I don't like something? Crap._

Regardless, he'd have to use the identity either way and he was looking forward to Saturday. Looks like it was time to get on with it. Slowly, he got up and went to take a shower and came out to realize that he was a few minutes late for his hairdressing appointment already. Someone was pounding at his door. Annoyed, he opened it before stepping out, uncaring of who it was. "Yes, yes. Let's get on with it already shall we?"

With that, he was led to the main room, being forced to sit down. Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently as the obviously gay man placed a cape over Sherlock's shoulders and began to cut and trim his hair before Julio finally started on bleaching his hair, of which it came out to be a very orange exactly the shade of an atomic tangerine. God, he looked hideous.

An hour after the hairdresser had left, Sherlock was looking very peeved with the hair color that it came out to be.

Sherlock had stormed into Mycroft's office, of which Mycroft immediately looked up to see a very orange-haired Sherlock and burst out into sniggers at the sight.  
"Mycroft! This is not what I consented to! I want this fixed. Now!" He hissed quite loudly, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. Sherlock stampeded out, slamming the door as he went which caused the wall to shake and some things to wobble. This was probably the first time that Mycroft had seen Sherlock this angry, apart from the temper tantrums that Sherlock had when he was a kid but that was different and that didn't count.

Okay maybe that wasn't as funny as he thought it was...

_**Monday morning... (Holmes's Estate)**_

Now, it was the next day the tailor had arrived, Sherlock refused to come out of his room but Mycroft had to coax him out by using John's name, which seemed to always work nowadays.  
"Sherlock, if you don't do this, then you won't be able to see your lovely John, I don't think he'd appreciate you being this way if he were here. Julio is coming back to fix your hair if you check on your itinerary..."

"Sod off Mycroft, I'll be out in a minute!" Sherlock spat as he rolled his eyes and got out of bed to change into his usual button up shirt and black trousers. Mycroft was irritating.

Not five minutes later, Sherlock finally opened the door, still fuming about his hair. Sure, Sherlock didn't care much for his hairstyle but that was until the stupid hairdresser arrived. He absolutely hated his ginger hair and wanted his brown hair back. He missed it already.

_Sodding hairdresser! No. Sodding Mycroft! Why was he put up to this? Oh right. John... I'm coming home John, just you wait. Hang in there for me..._

Hours later, the tailor finally left after having taken Sherlock's measurements, Sherlock refused to spit out a sound to Mycroft. When Mycroft had finished speaking to him about the day of shopping tomorrow, Sherlock rolled his eyes and waited until Mycroft turned his back to stick his middle finger out. Once he had done that, Sherlock quickly vacated the room, he went back to his solitude of his bedroom. Right now he absolutely hated Mycroft.

_This was a sodding disaster._

_**Monday/Tuesday middle of the night... (Holmes's Estate)**_

Well, Sherlock didn't sleep that night. Instead, he stayed up all night playing his new violin quite loudly to disrupt Mycroft from his beauty sleep, he decided to try and annoy him by walking through the halls of the mansion while playing a deafening, screeching noise on his violin. He got what he wanted when he heard the very loud shout of his name from the oh so familiar tone that was his brother's. Perfect.

However, Sherlock missed his old violin which remained at 221B because everyone that was in on the plan didn't want to make John suspicious that Sherlock's violin went missing, out of all of his other things. After a week or so of Sherlock yelling at his brother about how he was losing his sanity without his violin. Mycroft gave in and went out to buy Sherlock a new violin, of which he played for hours at a time.

Having recorded the screechy music, Sherlock placed the recorder in the potted plant right outside of Mycroft's bedroom door, burying it underneath the soil after having pressed play and repeat. Smirking to himself as he sashayed off back to his room. There, that should keep Mycroft up for a while. What can he say?

_Payback's a bitch Mycroft. I can be a disaster or I can be your nightmare. Seems you chose both._

_Have fun._

_**Tuesday morning and afternoon... (Chapelfield Shopping Mall)**_

The very obviously gay tailor had been quite annoying when he walked about, literally dragging Sherlock around the stores by the hand. Many times, Sherlock had tried to escape, to hide or run away from Fernando but every attempt failed. It was as if Fernando had a GPS or a leash on Sherlock. It was so easy to deduce that Fernando loved shopping, he was excited, Sherlock was bored and he hated it. Shopping for clothes for himself. Definitely not his thing.

_Sodding bitch._

At the end of the day when the stores were closing, Sherlock was more than relieved but gay Fernando was quite disappointed, of which the consulting detective didn't care for. He just wanted to go home and curl up in bed. Sherlock had more than an armful of clothing now but he didn't really like the style that Fernando had picked out for him, of which he'd have to wear. Sherlock just desperately wanted to be himself but if he wanted to see John. To be with him, then he'd do anything... Easier said than done.

When Sherlock got back, the screechy noise of his violin was STILL playing. Mycroft was very moody as he snapped and shouted at Sherlock. Of which Sherlock was very pleased from this reaction, however...  
"If you don't turn that bloody thing off or find it then I'm going to pull the plug on this whole plan and you won't be able to see your dear John!"

Upon hearing this, Sherlock tensed and froze, a deep scowl etched across his face as he pointed to the potted plant and walked away, shoulders slumped as he heard loud stomps then buzzing and now silence.

Sherlock wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.. It was definitely going to be interesting with the makeup artists. Let's just say that Janelle will most likely storm out in the middle of the session.

**_Wednesday afternoon... (Makeup Room-Holmes's Estate)_**

When the next day arrived, Sherlock was surprised that Janelle managed to last until Sherlock's makeup session was just about over.

Sherlock was bored so he decided to deduce Janelle, which he knew was obviously a very bad idea.

_Recently divorced shows the lighter band of skin around her ring finger where a ring used to be._

_Slightly bloodshot eyes, been crying for the last day or so._

_Necklace with her first initial on it, probably given to by her ex-husband, unable to move on._

_Wine stain at the sleeve, splashed or dumped it on the ex._

_A small tear at the cleavage, ex was forceful._

_A little too much makeup-_

"Ow. Watch the eyeliner!" Sherlock complained when she'd accidentally poked him in the eye.  
"Sorry.. You don't even need makeup. I don't even know why your brother even called me down. I get paid so it doesn't matter anyway." She snapped.

_Too much makeup indicates she's trying to get attracted to by posh men._

_Stabbed in the eye means she's distracted and unfocused._

_Harsh tone, bad mood, probably from lack of sleep._

_Talks about money, ex took her money and she's desperate even though she doesn't seem to care about her job anymore._

_The way life is going for her right now, she'll end up being a prostitute considering her thick makeup and ahem- slutty clothes._

"GODDAMMIT! Watch the bloody makeup!"

Sherlock shouted when she had poked him in the eye once again. Sherlock knocked the eyeliner out of her hand, feeling a little moody for the last few days because this had been the worst week for him ever but if it was for John. He would do anything.

_Oh sod it. I'm gonna deduce the hell out of this woman._

"You were recently divorced out of a forceful relationship with your husband, he left you for your sister. You've been crying for the whole last day or so but you can't seem to let go of him because you still have your necklace, which by the way was given to you from him. He told you that he was in love with your sister and has slept with her on a few occasions while he was still married to you and of course, your sister is a dancer or a hooker at a strip club because she dropped out of school, the wine stain at your sleeve tells me that you've dumped a glass onto your ex after he'd told you. Probably a restaurant but then again..."

Sherlock stops and tugs at her sleeve and sniffs at the stained spot. Janelle was too shocked and confused to move or pull away but she was still processing all the words while Sherlock spoke his deductions quickly. She said nothing, her lips parted several times as her voice tried to get a sound out but nothing came but silence. The consulting detective continued.

"La Puerta 2008 Shiraz. If located at the local liquor store or at the restaurant, the price would be approximately six pounds all the same. Which indicates to me that you were paying for it, of which you don't have a lot of money for but the gentleman is always the one to pay so he wouldn't care about it, the wine was bitter, and he's not exactly a gentleman anyway. However, the recent tear at your cleavage tells me that this event occurred at home. In that case, your ex was forceful and didn't take it too well after you'd spilled wine on him but you escaped. You've most likely received a bruise on your forearm, which is why you've been self conscious and constantly checking to see if your sleeve hasn't uncovered it. I'm sure if I rolled it up, I would no doubt see a bruise. You're trying to attract other men so you can try and move on from him or make him jealous because Christmas is coming up in a few months. You obviously haven't been sleeping well lately, overtaken by nightmares because you're very moody to your customers today, but that's not all.."

Sherlock took a huge breath considering he had a lot to have had deduced about this woman.

"You talk about money like you're desperate. It's like you're a homeless person sitting in front of me because you obviously don't care about your job anymore but you need the money which is why you're working on pointless people like me who don't need makeup unlike you. If you keep this up, you're likely to lose your job because you'll only get more complaints than compliments. Obviously your boss wouldn't overlook that and because you're such a 'perfectionist' with your makeup, jabbing me in the eye with your tools, your mind is elsewhere. Oh I can easily tell it was on the very attractive guy that you've passed in the cafe on the way here, he bought you your mocha which caused you to be a few minutes late. I'm sorry to break it to you but if you keep this up, you're going to end up being a prostitute just like your sister. I wouldn't be surprised if she got a sexually transmitted disease considering all the one night stands she's so addicted to. I can tell you one good thing though, your ex and your sister's relationship will not last very long."

Sherlock let himself take another deep breath, having talked out his lungs.

"So was I wrong about anything?"  
Obviously, since this was the longest deduction he'd spat out to anybody, he wasn't expecting to get everything right. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, painful stinging in his cheek, his lower lip splitting open from the force.

_Very impressive strength, must be working at the gym then?_

"Yes, since you have to point out the obvious, just be lucky that I'm done with you because otherwise I'd stab you in the eyes purposefully. You can expect a different makeup artist next time!" She snapped and dumped her dirty antiseptic (for cleaning off the makeup) onto Sherlock before she stormed out.  
_Well, that wasn't a tedious reaction compared to what I usually get.. I got everything right at least. That was... Interesting. Mycroft should hear of my accomplishment.. Oh sod it, he knows already._

With that, Sherlock looked at himself in the mirror, scoffing at the now-ruined makeup on his face, he rolled his eyes and left to roll across Mycroft's bed with the soaking antiseptic still on him. That would definitely make him itchy and smelling strange.

_Wonder if I should bring some makeup with me too.. Mycroft would enjoy waking up to a doll in the morning. Oh god yes._

_**Wednesday evening... (Holmes's Estate)**_

After a very nice, long hot shower, Sherlock was freshly clean again and in his pajamas this time, thank the lord for that. Sherlock decided to play his violin and occupy himself until he was sure Mycroft had gone to bed. Pulling out the makeup that he'd taken from a drawer in his bathroom, Sherlock tip-toed down the hall. Yes. He really did tiptoe.

Now, it was dark and he was so excited. Sherlock turned Mycroft's bathroom light on so he could see in the dark without waking up Mycroft. Carefully, he sat down and began to work on his brother, making sure not to press too hard or do anything in particular that would waken him. It had been difficult to try and stifle any snickers that threatened to escape him once he'd been done. Snapping a photo or two on his phone, he was ready to use it for blackmail. Slowly, he shut off the light and vacated the room. Unlike before when he tiptoed Sherlock actually dashed, faint thudding of his feet echoed through the dark, empty hallways back to his room. Sherlock made sure his door was closed and locked before he slipped into his bed and drifted off to sleep.

**_Thursday early morning... (Holmes's Estate)_**

"SHERLOCK PEEWEE HOLMES!"

This very loud shout from Mycroft had Sherlock jerk awake with an almost inaudible gasp and then a very deep blush as he pulled the blanket over his head in embarrassment. Now Mycroft saw the doll. Wonderful.

_Ugh, not that name.. Oh Mycroft. I hate you._

Ever since he was a kid, maybe around the age of three or four. He'd always pretend to be a pirate and call himself Cap'n P'we but of course Mycroft heard that and always teased him about it after he'd turned five which was when the temper tantrums began. It was pronounced differently but Mycroft always changed it to make it sound even stupider.

_It's sodding P'we, not Pee fucking wee. I don't even use that anymore! Stop teasing me about it! Great, now everyone who lives here thinks that's my sodding middle name when I don't even have one! Thank you very much brother dear._

Every time Mycroft was angry or wanted to embarrass Sherlock, all he had to do was call him by his full name, which is Sherlock Holmes, but then he'd add 'Peewee' to it. Oh how Sherlock regretted trying to pretend to be a pirate when he was younger, sure it was fun but Mycroft was ruining his childhood.. As if it hadn't been ruined already.

It was still early so the lanky detective decided to slip back into dreamland again, only to be rudely awakened an hour later to a loud banging on the door.

_Oh come on, couldn't you be civil about this? Just go away._

Sherlock remained quiet as he pulled the pillow over his head to muffle the pounding on his door, hoping Mycroft could think he wasn't there and just leave.  
"Peewee! I know you're in there! Open up the damn door!"

Remaining quiet for a few moments longer, Sherlock rolled his eyes when his idiotic brother wouldn't leave him be. He decided to strip himself of his clothes and annoy the older Holmes brother, he shoved his clothing aside and wrapped himself up in the sheet, he yanked the door open.

"What is it Mycroft? I was having a glorious wank until you interrupted on my session!" Sherlock lied easily and huffed as he was rather irritated.

"Oh brother dear, it's so easy to tell that you haven't. You're so sexually inexperienced and I know you don't wank and I do know you're still a virgin. Now.. About what you did while I was sleeping..."

Mycroft sneered as he spoke in the calmest voice he could manage despite how annoyed he was.

"Sex doesn't alarm me. Perhaps you're right but who are you to say that you know that for sure? What about it? You know, you should stop wasting your money on that stupid makeup artist because she stabbed me in the eyes twice yesterday, not to mention that she's rather... indisposed and inexperienced at the moment. I'd recommend finding a new makeup artist. I'm going back to wank before Julio arrives."

Sherlock went to close the door but Mycroft stepped in and stopped him.  
"Peewee.. Stop this. Let's make a truce and take it down a notch. I apologize for whatever happened yesterday, it won't happen again. I'm trying to help you so you can be with your lovely John. I'm off to convince him to get a new flatmate today and such. Behave."  
"Stop calling me that Mycroft. You know very well that it's pronounced P'we, not Peewee. You're sounding more like mummy nowadays. Goodbye."  
With that, Sherlock slammed the door shut and locked it with a relieved sigh when he could hear receding footsteps. This was going to be very boring next few days since he couldn't annoy Mycroft like he was doing for the last few days.

Well, he was awake and he was definitely not going to wank. Nope, not that kind of person. As far as Sherlock knew, he'd only wanked twice in his teenage years but that was only because puberty hit him quite hard. Now, what to do? Julio was bound to arrive soon and as if on cue, there was a knock on his door, he rolled his eyes, thinking it was Mycroft again but it was the hairdresser.

"Ah. Right, well.. Let me just get dressed then we'll get started." Sherlock politely told him. Even though Julio was very obviously gay, his clothes were somewhat girly, black tights and a loose turquoise shirt with a dark grey sweater and a beanie hat. Julio reminded him of John somehow which caused him to be a little nicer to him, even though he was still upset about his ginger colored hair. Sherlock closed the door and quickly dressed again before stepping out.  
"Well, umm.. I can't say that I like my hair because it's.. Orange. Can't we fix that at least?" Sherlock asked in the nicest way possible.

"Oh? I didn't tell you? Oh dear. Well! I meant to tell you last time that it would come out as orange but we'd have to wait a few days before I could bleach it again because I don't want to damage your pretty curls. It's so soft! We're definitely bleaching it again today and it should come out as blonde. I apologize! I thought I told you last time. Have you been upset about this the whole time love?" Julio asked as he fiddled with Sherlock's hair before putting on the cape. "You haven't showered today. That's wonderful." He smiled as he spoke while he prepared the bleach. "You'll be a very happy customer today, oh I promise you that love!"

And of course, Sherlock was much happier and relieved with his now blonde hair. They had to bleach his eyebrows too, which was very uncomfortable but he managed it. Now, he looked almost like a whole new person. Unable to help himself, Julio seemed like a very nice man, Sherlock couldn't help but comment and ask for his number so they could hang out sometime and it would be excellent with his disguise to have someone else as a... friend? That way John wouldn't get too suspicious about it. Now that Sherlock's hair was looking much better, he was finally looking forward to tomorrow, which was finding out his new identity. Oh god, he couldn't help but be nervous for that too. The bleaching of his hair only took an hour and a half which left him with the rest of the day to do as he pleased. As usual, Sherlock went for a ride and tended to Annabella as well with playing his violin and doing his experiments that he'd neglected for the last few days.

Same old, same old. Some things just never change.

**_Friday early morning... (Holmes's Estate)_**

"Mycroft, Mycroft. I want my information now. Mycroft!"

Sherlock spoke in an almost whisper which sounded more like a hiss as he questioned himself.

_Why am I trying to be quiet? I'm trying to wake him up after all..._

"Mycroft Holmes! Wake the hell up now! I want my information!" Sherlock spoke loudly and rolled his eyes as he childishly jumped onto the bed and got on all fours with Mycroft's legs between him as he bounced in an attempt to wake him up like a child waking up their parents on Christmas morning.

A loud groan was heard then a curse tumbled from Mycroft's lips as he tried to wake himself up. It was rather early. "Sherlock.. What in the world's..." He groaned and looked at the time, it was twenty after six in the morning. "Christ.. Sherlock. Do you know what the bloody time it is?!"

"Yes, but I want my information of the identity file.. Now Mycroft."

"Tell you what. You'll have it at ten o'clock.. Let me sleep for a little longer and I'll reconsider letting your horse stay here while you live with John." He hoped that Sherlock would care enough about his horse to let him sleep a little longer.

"Fine." Sherlock huffed. "Ten o'clock. Not a second later." He muttered and got off of Mycroft before shuffling off and closing the door quietly behind him, scared to lose his lovely Annabella.

Three hours and thirty eight minutes later, Sherlock had been counting specifically and he had been pacing at the front of Mycroft's office doors for the last ten minutes. Watching the clock until he was sure it would be 09:59:59 by the time he would burst the doors open. Sherlock was needy to know the identity and he wanted to ask questions about the missing gaps if there were any. Plus, he wondered if he could change the identity a little if there was something that he'd disliked.

"Information. Now." Sherlock literally barked out at Mycroft who was already holding out a file for Sherlock to take.

Yanking the file out of his older brother's hand to look into it, seeing his name there made an eyebrow raise up, then the new biography listed there. It was something like this.

**Name: Tobias Axel Schumacher**

**Gender: Male**

**DOB: January 6th 1983**

**Birthplace: Munich, Germany**

**Hospital: Recht der Isar Klinicum (Not translated into English from German)**

**Current location: London, United Kingdom**

**Reason for moving: Work and undisclosed information**

**Height: 6'0**

**Weight: 125lbs**

**Hair: Bleached Blonde**

**Eyes: Deep blue eyes**

**Skin: Pale to fair**

**History:**

**Tobias grew up in Munich, Germany. As Tobias grew up, his father was often away at work. His father was an astronaut and his mother died when Tobias was born. This meant that Tobias was usually home alone most of the time. On the plus side, he was able to learn about Astronomy at an earlier age. Tobias was often curious about what his father's job and his knowledge. His father did take the time to teach Tobias about it all, outer space and astronomy. Because he was good at Astronomy just like his father, he excelled at it and got great school grades in the courses so when he finished high school in Germany, he decided to become an astronomy teacher but the pay wasn't very good. Tobias eventually went back to school and became a professor of Astronomy with a PhD. Now, Tobias kept moving around because he wanted to spread his knowledge, to travel and get more experience, which was why he'd decided to move to London. Tobias doesn't want to spend too much on housing and such for when he moves about because of the fact that he isn't there for very long and he would be focused on his job.**

**Extra attachments: Sherlock Holmes's medical file with Sherlock's name changed to Tobias Schumacher.**

"Now brother dear, before you say anything else, allow me to explain... I've gone to John and it took me longer than expected to convince him to try and get a new flatmate and that I have a person in mind. So, on Monday, you get in a cab and arrive at Baker Street, then you meet with John at Speedy's, right next door and he will interview you. Now, I should replace your makeup session with a speech therapy session or shall I do both? Mm.. No I'll do both, we'll get the makeup done and start your speech therapy because you'll have to speak in a German accent the whole time so that John will be unable to determine you from your voice."

It took Sherlock a few minutes to read through what he had been handed, in which was going to be his new medical file just in case John decided to go look him up or something. It was a strange personality and it was a little unusual with the fact that he had to learn how to be German and he had to learn something he hated the most, the one thing he thought that was absolutely unnecessary to know, and that was astronomy, outer space, the sun, planets and the stars. Useless information. It wouldn't matter if they went 'round and 'round the garden like a teddy bear or around the sun or the moon because there wasn't anything he could do to change that fact.

"Do I have to be an Astronomy professor? I mean.. Ugh. Couldn't I have gone with an easier accent like American or Canadian or something?" Sherlock whined and sighed.

"Information is information. This is final. Now, you should go study this and get caught up on your astronomy terms and German terms. If you would, you could get a start on your German accent." Mycroft suggested. He knew Sherlock didn't like some aspects of this information he was told but he would have to live with it and use it, no matter what. Plus, it was a big step in getting Sherlock to do something and to follow the rules like he should be doing, unlike his past few months here.

It would also help Sherlock with keeping his boredom at bay for the next few days since he'd given him a huge bout of research to do with terms and German language. Sherlock should know a few terms just in case John would ask.

With that, Sherlock sighed, turned and left the room without further protests and headed to his bedroom where his laptop was so he could start busying himself with terms, of which he was sure to delete after he no longer needed them. Opening his laptop and turning it on, he reread the file to make sure he hadn't missed anything and to confirm subconsciously that he wasn't dreaming all of this up. Sighing, he set the file aside and began to browse on a few Astronomy terms, most of them he already knew since most of them were chemistry terms, but some terms, he didn't know. For now, he decided to focus on the simple ones and the other complex ones, he was soaking up the new information like a sponge. It was hard to admit to himself that he actually did think that only some of the new information that he'd found would be useful in the future for his experiments but others weren't as useful.

Surprisingly enough, this was what he did for the whole day until he ended up falling asleep at the screen.

**_Early Saturday morning... (Sherlock's Room - Holmes's Estate)_**

After a few hours, he slowly woke up as there was loud knocking at his door. His neck was rather sore and a small groan escaped him as he managed to sit up where he had slumped over from where the laptop was. Sherlock's back was rather stiff as he rubbed sleep from his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Although it took him a few minutes more to realize what had jolted him from his sleep when the knocking became more irritated as he slowly got up, managing to drag himself to the door to open it and to see who was so focused on bothering him.

Half expecting Mycroft or the makeup artist, he was confused when it was neither and it was one of the maids bringing him his food. Sherlock accepted the breakfast with an eye roll and a huff as he set it on a nearby desk before returning to his bed to close the lid of the laptop. He slid it to the foot of the bed to allow himself to collapse down onto the softness of the duvet, falling right back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**_Saturday late morning... (Holmes's Estate)_**

It was only two and a half hours later then he'd been jerked awake quite harshly by cool water hitting his face, he gasped loudly and groaned when he'd seen his older brother standing there with a plastic bucket.

"What the hell Mycroft?!" He shouted as he struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, continuing to rub at his now-wet face.

"Get up. You're an hour late." Mycroft barked out as an order.

Sherlock made a face and flopped back on the bed with a groan. "For what?"

"Don't you remember? You have a makeup appointment. I had to find someone else since Janelle has gone missing and won't answer our calls. Here's Korine. If you somehow make this one leave in a bad mood. You won't see John. Deal's off. Understood?" Mycroft spoke sternly to make sure Sherlock was still paying attention to what he was saying.  
After giving a sigh, Sherlock reluctantly dragged out his words a little more than usual. "Fine.." He rolled his eyes before he slowly got up. "I need a moment to wake up. Get out." He muttered as Mycroft smirked as he'd succeeded in his plan before turning to leave but he stopped at the door, causing Sherlock to groan.

"By the way. The German teacher is coming just before dinner and will be staying until you at least have half of the German accent down and he will continue again tomorrow for the last half of the day, after lunch and before lunch, you need to study up some more on your new identity and as an astronomy professor." Mycroft reminded before he turned then stopped without a glance once more. "Oh, and by the way.. If you're not out of your room and at your appointment in ten minutes..." He trailed off for a few moments but then spoke a little quieter. "Well, I'm sure you can deduce the consequences, little brother..." He warned before he left, being sure to time it right from there. As Mycroft was leaving to head to his office, he could hear Sherlock scrambling to get ready, a smirk planted on his face. Another success to help the troublemaker.

Within a few minutes, Sherlock was sitting in the chair, it was hard for Sherlock not to mock Korine or deduce her to make her leave again but he soon figured that Sherlock hated makeup, and even makeup artists.

_Why would people actually want to wear makeup? So pointless to hide yourself. If you were to be yourself and be natural, makeup was definitely not the way to do it. Hell, how can makeup artists exist? That shouldn't even be a real job._

After some trouble with the makeup, Sherlock kept having to redo it himself as Korine gave him easy tips on how to do it, such as following his cheekbones with the blush, spreading out the cover-up. Sherlock honestly didn't need that but it was good to know how, along with eyeliners and mascara. That was all he needed to know. The blush and cover-up was the easiest part but the mascara and eyeliners.. Ugh, he hated how he kept poking himself in the eye accidentally. Now he couldn't really blame Janelle, Korine and the other makeup artists but still, that wasn't even a real job. Who needed makeup artists anyway?

Once Sherlock managed to get the hang of applying and removing makeup in all the right ways, Korine finally left. The consulting detective decided to head back to bed, still feeling exhausted but this time, he'd decided to set his alarm clock so that he'd wake up just before the German guy would come. Sherlock didn't want to cause any more trouble than he already had and he also really didn't want to take any more risks of losing the only chance that he had of being reunited with John again. Even if it meant that he was in disguise this time, he needed the warmth of their friendship to fill his heart again, the company and the love from his brother wasn't what Sherlock needed at the moment.

As he thought about his former flatmate, he drifted off to sleep. He missed John. He needed him. It wasn't anyone else.

It was his flatmate, colleague and blogger. No, not just that to Sherlock. No one else but it was just him. Only him. His Doctor Watson. The John Watson that had made him care.

John Hamish Watson.

The only one in the world.

**_Sunday morning... (Holmes's Estate)_**

As the loud and high pitched ringing of his alarm went off at noon, Sherlock let out a groan. He needed more sleep. Slowly, he slammed his alarm with his hand, eventually knocking it off the table, in which began the silence of the room. It was too quiet but Sherlock knew that the silence wasn't to be mistaken as he stood and stretched. Now, he needed to find Mycroft or at least the German guy that was coming in. For once, Sherlock just wanted to get this over and done with so he could go back to sleep and rest a little longer because he was now just a bit excited more so than usual because of the fact that he was finally going home as a different person tomorrow.

Forty-seven hours and forty-five minutes until he'd arrive at 221B, finally Sherlock could begin the countdown. Less than forty-eight hours. The more hours that drag past caused him to become even more excited to see John, but then he reminded himself that John wouldn't even know that it's Sherlock. That was the part that hurt the most.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to find the German guy because he was easy to spot. Short, pale skin, freckles over his cheeks along with strawberry blonde hair, he had reading glasses perched on top of his shoulder length hair of which was pulled back into a pony filled with dreadlocks. Strange looking German man but it didn't matter because he was just desperate to get the learning over and done with. Thankfully the German man, who introduced himself as Pico, didn't chat much and got right down to business.

By the time they took their break for a snack and something to drink, it was only a thirty minute break. However, there was only forty hours and fifty-two minutes to go.

Fortunately for Sherlock, he'd managed to learn the German accent quicker than he'd expected, Pico decided to stay the night since he was visiting the country for a little while. Once they were done, Sherlock skipped dinner and ate his breakfast in his room before he went straight to bed. Tomorrow was expected to be a short day after all. Perfect.

Thirty-four hours and twelve minutes to go.

**_Monday morning... (Holmes's Estate)_**

Once Sherlock slept, he slept like the dead, obviously needing the sleep but his alarm went off early the next morning.

_Funny, I didn't even set that yesterday for this hour... God, I'm so tired..._

Today was when he was supposed to go to 221B but Pico told Mycroft that Sherlock needed more work on his German.

_Sodding idiot. I want to see my John..._

The younger brother eventually got up and dressed to continue from where Pico and himself had left off from the day before, starting off with a review before Pico finally got around to teaching Sherlock a few terms in German, just in case John had to ask to hear him speak German for verification or something. You never know.

Twenty-nine hours and twenty nine minutes to go.

Sherlock wasn't expecting John to ask but he hadn't seen him in months so he had no idea if his best friend had changed... Or not. He really hoped that he hadn't but he was so afraid that his cover was going to be blown and that John would hate him. Sherlock never wanted that to happen.

Hours went past with the German lessons and before he knew it, it was already just over twenty-four hours to go.

_Oh god. John, I'm coming, just hang in there!_

Two more hours flew right past while Sherlock carried on with the German lessons and it was long and harsh because the damn German dude was such a perfectionist and wouldn't let him go until he got it perfectly sound.

_Idiot._

Finally, the thirty minute break came. There was only twenty two hours and a minute left.

Once they returned to the lessons, Sherlock continued to try to learn simple german terms and some hard ones but it was good because he needed to know at least a little to get by on so that John wouldn't become suspicious. It didn't take too much longer before Sherlock finally understood it all and mastered it.

Fourteen hours and seven minutes to go.

The detective had learned what he needed for the new identity, he'd mastered the German accent and he had no problem speaking in the accent now and it sounded as if he'd spoken in the accent for years. Perfect.

**_Monday evening... (Sherlock's Room- Holmes's Estate)_**

All he had to do now was to review his information and study up on Astronomy terms, which was all he had to do for the last bit of the day, it was already just past dinnertime. Now Sherlock would have to pack and everything had to go, right down to the letter. Everything was going with him, even his old Sherlock clothes. After he'd said goodbye to Pico and (managing to use his manners this time, credits to John for reminding him of that) he thanked him for all the help.

Once Pico had left, Sherlock dashed for his room, swiping a few snacks from the dining table as he went. Time to study for the next three or so hours. Perhaps the time would help him along. Oh if only Mycroft could see how well he was doing, he'd be oh so proud... The bald man probably knew this already, the detective didn't even have to tell Mycroft anything, always trusting the other man to know it. It was as if they could read each other's minds.

It didn't take long before Sherlock was immersed in his work, his food left forgotten beside his laptop and the papers neatly packed into a file. Thankfully, Mycroft knew what he'd been worried about... He had no tools or anything to show that he was a professor.

A thick textbook of outer space and the stars was provided as well as definitions to Astronomical terms, along with a stack of paperwork of which it looked very much alike to homework that he would hand out or the student's work that he would have to mark. All in all, he was finally prepared by the time it was ten at night.

Ten hours and forty-five minutes to go.

Time to pack.

Sherlock decided to pack everything he'd brought with him after the fall and all those things that he'd bought for his new identity into two separate large suitcases. Once he was finished packing, he let out a soft sigh, feeling excited now that there was only exactly nine hours to go til he could finally be home again.

Sherlock would love to stay up and study but he was already tired enough and he needed the sleep anyway. The detective stretched and yawned as he curled up into bed after sliding his suitcases to the foot of the bed. It didn't take long at all before he was asleep for the night. As of tomorrow morning, when Sherlock would wake up. Officially (to himself) he'd be Tobias Axel Schumacher. No longer will he be known as Sherlock Holmes until he was given the clear from Mycroft.

_**Tuesday early morning... (Holmes's Estate)**_

After silencing his alarm, Sherlock.. No wait...His name is now Tobias.. Anyways, Tobias slowly allowed himself to wake up as it was eight-thirty in the morning. Thankfully, he wasn't as tired as he had been for the last few days. Tobias grabbed the file and the Astronomy terms that he'd been studying up on along with his professor books and such for his job to review quickly before he would return the file to Mycroft. Deciding to take half an hour to prepare himself and make himself look different as he dressed in his new clothing style and cleared his throat, slipping into his new German accent easily. "Mornin' Doc' Watson." Tobias practiced in the mirror as he applied just a smidge of makeup, brushed his wavy hair and added some product before he felt completely ready to conquer 221B Baker St once again as a different person.

After he had done just so, he decided to go say goodbye to Annabelle first, petting, brushing, feeding and talking to her before he went to Mycroft as his normal self before he slipped off into his new identity for good. Well.. At least until Mycroft would say it was okay. With an awkward hug, a handshake, a few words and a curt nod, Sherlock left Mycroft's office for what he hoped would be the last time. The older brother looked somewhat sad but relieved that Sherlock was leaving. At least it was for his own good.

**_Tuesday late morning... (Train station)_**

Three hours and thirty-five minutes.

"Tube to London is now boarding. Tube to London is now boarding!" Repeated the announcement as Tobias had bought his train ticket, soon loading up his suitcases, being sure they had his name tag on them before he boarded the train and found a place to sit. Alone.

Three hours and eleven minutes.

Once eleven minutes had passed, the train quickly left the station. Tobias was finally on his way home.

**Just so you guys know, the Holmes's Estate is in Norwich, UK. Approximately about 2 hours and 15 minutes NorthEast from London. If anyone was confused. Chapter 2 of John's POV is coming soon, it's mainly written by BloggerBoy with a few edits from ConsultingOtter! CO wrote this chapter mainly with a few edits from BB. Please, please leave a review! -Sincerely, CO.**


End file.
